Weekend with a Werewolf by Gilderoy Lockhart
by vortex the
Summary: Remember those wonky books Lockhart boasts about in book two? Remember the one about the Waga-Waga werewolf? This is it! A fic originally posted last year, it's revived, revised and refined for your pleasure. Enjoy.


Weekend with a Werewolf

By: Gilderoy Lockhart

(Actually, it's done by me, the vortex, and its based on J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books, which I don't own, so don't sue. Please.)

To my wonderful and frightening sisters, Lady and Cal. Their kooky ways made me a stranger person.

PREFACE  
Written by Gill L. Heart, founder of the Society of Lockhart Lovers

Dear, dearer, dearest reader,

As you may have noticed, (or may not have, come to think of it) this book is a hard cover edition (which has since been converted to computer friendly format) of the amazing, terrific, outstanding and utterly wonderful book "Weekend with a Werewolf" by my idol, Gilderoy Lockhart. Perhaps you've already heard of my, I mean _his_ other books, but for those of you who are unlearned, or perhaps a bit dim, it is an adventure/self-help guide to werewolves. To those of you who are weak of heart, beware! This book is full of dangerous deeds, daring dogfights and dreadful dangers that only the great Lockhart would be able to live to tell of. I warn all of you out there in the normal, slow paced world of reading to steer clear of werewolves, as they might bite and cause a nasty rash, but if you should come across one, you will now know what to do.

Sincerely yours,

(some squiggly writing which appears to be written in lilac ink) Gill L. Heart

**

**I: The Village**

So there I was, standing in the outskirts of a little village somewhere in Armenia, and I had a job. No, a duty. No, it was more of a mission. Yes, that's it, a _mission_. 

**

**II: The Cold**

Anyway, I was standing there, in only my robes, today a dazzling colour of lilac, and standing there in only my robes and not my cloak was a brave, strong thing to do because at the time it was very cold, and a normal man would have frozen, but not me. No, I was far, far braver than many men on this cold day. Because many men would fall on this cold day in Armenia. But I had a mission. Did I mention that? Oh yes, a very tedious mission, a very tedious mission indeed. It was oh so tedious, as tedious a mission as a mission could get. Yes, today, a fine day in Armenia (but it was a cold day, a fine cold day), I was to slay a (ominous music starts playing, as it often does in wizard books) werewolf.

Yes, I, Gilderoy Lockhart, the brave, the fearless, the peerless (perhaps I should have gone into poetry), was going up against a nasty, mangy, snarling, slavering, and all around bad chap of a werewolf!

**

**III/ IV: The Ritual/ The Promise**

Oh yes, these Armenians held a ritual once a month dedicated to the slaying of werewolves. After hearing of my noble deeds beforehand (see Break with a Banshee, Gadding with Ghouls, Holidays with Hags, Travels with Trolls and Voyages with Vampires for my previous acts, as well as Year with the Yeti, my next book, recording my amazing time spent with a giant half-witted furry troll) the leader of this small village had asked for my personal assistance. He wanted me to find a werewolf and bring it back for killing. But I said, "Why kill the werewolf when you can turn him into a man again?" And he told me he didn't know, so I said, "Kind sir, I will find your werewolf, but I will not kill him. No, sir, I will turn him back into a man, and this I promise with all my heart, because they don't call me 'Lockhart' for nothing. No, they call me Lockhart for a reason, and the reason is 'my heart is locked to those I have sworn to protect.' Thus 'Lockhart.' Get it?" But those Armenians, oh, they didn't get it, and in fact got it less than it could get. But this didn't discourage me, oh no, no, it in fact made me stronger. They would remember my name forever in that village. I was sure of that.

**

**V: Lockhart the Great**

As I had arrived at the small village on the 9th of May, a rather bad time to arrive, as werewolves come out on the full moon, and the full moon comes at the end of the month, I spent most of my time helping the villagers with their day-to-day problems. For instance, one family had been running low on sugar, so I transfigured a small house cat into a self-replenishing bowl of sugar that meowed and purred according to its mood. Oh those villagers, they were so happy they were absolutely speechless, and the housewife began weeping inconsolably. For joy, of course.

Next I took it upon myself to cure an aging woman of chicken pox, consequently changing her into a chicken that, uh, she may better serve her people on, uh, Christmas Day. 

After that, I discovered that a small child was ill with a nasty case of the plague. This turned out to be a caused by a run-a-muck chicken, and was later nursed back to health by one of my moving photographs. Signed of course by me, Gilderoy Lockhart. The poor boy, before he was declared delirious, was screaming, "Get that stupid blond git away from me!!!!!"

You know, so many of the villagers told me to stop helping them. They obviously didn't want to depend on me when I left. The chief actually called me a 'sumamabitch,' whatever that is (a compliment, I think), after I helped him out with his potentially fatal toothache.

**

**VI: That Time of the Month**

As the days drew nearer, I knew it wouldn't be long before I faced a real werewolf. Not that I'd never faced a werewolf before, oh no, I'd faced lots of werewolves before, hundreds at a time, but never for a village before. But now, this little village was my duty, no, wait, my mission, my mission (It had taken me a long time to find that word, and I'd use it to its fullest). 

After my expert-help with many of their little problems, such as a flood (I used a drying spell, and after that, the land was absolutely _sucked dry_: no more floods!), it was time for me to go on the wolf hunt. Many men asked to go with me, more than likely afraid of being left alone in their houses without me to protect them.

I left the village at twelve, as it is rumored that werewolves only come out on full moons from 12 to 1 am. The villagers were cheering me on as I left. They were screaming and yelling things like "Don't trip over your robes", "If it sounds like a house-cat, it's a house-cat", and, "It's better if you _don't_ hide under a rock if you see it", no doubt words of encouragement passed down by their ancestors. As I strode out of sight, I heard the chief yell with glee, " Heeth gong, gong, gong for goud!!" It made me happy knowing he had full trust in my ability to hunt werewolves.

**

**VII: The Hunt**

Ah, what a beautiful night it was. The breeze was refreshing (but still a little nippy), the stars were shinning, the moon was full... 

...

...

AKK!! THE MOON WAS FULL!!! 

...

Ahem, er... yes, the moon was full, indicating the fact the huge, monstrous, blood-thirsty, man-eating, very-hungry werewolves would soon be all around me, eating me, scratching me, ruining my perfect coif... 

Never the less, it was still perfect. It was so bright, so amazing, so dazzling, I could only imagine how a werewolf would be overwhelmed by it's brilliance. It was truly what you would call a heavenly body. Something you could watch for hours on end. On many a lonely night I would stare into it's perfection. Many a fangirl told me just how beautiful, how wonderful, how incredible, how entrancing it was. But enough about my hair. Now, more of my mission. 

**

**VIII: The Hunt, Part 2**

Ah, what a beautiful night it still was. The breeze was still nippy, and getting nippier. But I would not let such a frivolous thing as hype-, uh, hype-, hypo-... thermia! Hypothermia (Special Gilderoy side-note: Woah! That one was almost as tough as 'mission') get in my way. No, hypothermia was the last thing on my mind. I had to think about how I was going to tackle the monstrous beast before it attacked and killed me, that, _that_ was the first thing on _my_ mind. 

I had a whole village of villagers counting on me, so I would not rest until the monster was caught. And then it hit me. It was so silly of me not to remember. I was hunting werewolves, after all, how could I have been so stupid! I had forgotten my garlic!

**IX: The Werewolf**

So, as I had forgotten my garlic, I decided to go back to the village. There was no reason I should get killed because of that! I explained my situation, and the chief told me to go back, but as I was walking away again, I noticed the time of the wolf had passed. It was now 1: 01 am. 

The chief was disappointed, I could tell right off the bat, as he muttered something about vampires and garlic. Had he so quickly forgotten the task at hand? We were not after vampires, no, no, we were after... WEREWOLVES! But I had not forgotten, in fact I made a promise to myself to go back the next night. But would you believe, I forgot to take my medication, and ended up missing the second night, too.

But the third night, oh, that was my night. And the villagers must have thought so too, as they dragged-escorted me all the way to the forest, and left in a hurry, obviously knowing that I must stalk my prey alone, and that if I had to worry about anyone of them it could pose a threat to my... _mission_.

It was probably a good minute or so before I heard the noise. It was coming from the bushes. It was a faint hissing sound, and it was drawing nearer. I edged closer, and fell back as a huge werewolf jumped on me. I rolled out of the way, just in time to see that it had been, a, er, chasing a small house-cat, now licking itself, knowing it would be safe around me.

As I started on my journey again, I heard another sound. It was horrible, almost as bad as when I had been facing a hundred mountain trolls [_see _Traveling with Trolls]. It was deep, a low rumbling, and it sounded evil [G/n: Dramatic, isn't it?].

**

**X: Homorphous**

I turned around and saw an enormous werewolf. It was brown and tattered, as if it had been an old used child's toy. But it was not. No, it was a nasty, mangy, snarling, slavering, huge, monstrous werewolf, and it was by no means cute and cuddly, like my old stuffed animal, Mr. Wiggles, used to be, before a poltergeist got to him. Oh, poor Mr. Wiggles, I never did find all of him... (_sniff_) But anyhow, the werewolf was in front of me. And do you know what I did then? Of course you don't, not unless you've already read my book, then you would know, and I would be very happy, oh yes I would! 

Well, just then I jumped on old wolffy there and wrestled him to the ground, holding his jaws together with my arms. It was a very difficult thing to do, but I managed it. Next, would you believe, I took out my wand. I thought of what I would do next. Well, it didn't take long for me to figure out what spell to perform, but it would be highly complicated. In my left arm, the one I so badly injured while fighting off several banshees (_see_ Break with a Banshee), and performed a Lockjaw curse. 

Next, I yelled out "_Firmamentum_!!!" before he could jump me. He fell to the ground and stayed there, unable to move from his spot. I stood and straitened my robes, stepped forward, and fell to the ground as I tripped, er... not tripped, er, dropped, yes, that's it, dropped to the ground, to get a better view of my catch, and said:

"Goodbye, dear werewolf. From now on you, and the rest of the village will sleep soundly in your beds, knowing that you will not attack them anymore." I could have sworn he'd rolled his eyes in terror as I shouted _Homorphous_. There was a bright light as the smoke from the spell cleared. There, standing in the place of the werewolf was, indeed, NOT a werewolf, but a man. I couldn't see his face clearly, so I took a step closer. I gasped in surprise.

**

**XI: The Secret**

There, in the middle of the little clearing we were in, was the little boy I had nursed back to health from the plague. He was on all fours and seemed to be coughing out some black smoke. I hesitated, then went to the boy's side. He immediately stopped coughing, stared at my, then ran of into the woods for some unknown reason. I stared after him, confused, as I heard the same harsh breath I'd heard before.

I turned around to see two werewolves, one fully-grown werewolf who seemed to be missing a fang (I would have to help him later), and another, smaller werewolf with white chicken feathers on it (Chicken feathers? Hmm, that reminds me, I was hungry that night...). I screamed in fright. I mean, in fright as in to frighten the werewolves, not me, never me, I was far too brave (and far too handsome) to be afraid. But I could tell from the look on their faces, they were afraid. Unlike I, who wasn't afraid, they were afraid, very afraid, I wasn't afraid, but they were afraid, terribly afraid, as they should have been, afraid of being attacked by me!

I took up a fighting position, then jumped behind a rock as one of them nearly pounced on me. I stayed behind the rock for five minutes before I decided to look at my watch. It said 1:01am. I took a wild chance and looked up from behind the rock. There they were, sniffing about for me (I suppose it was rather cracking that I didn't put on my own personal perfume, _Eau de Lockhart_, that night, wasn't it?), when I slipped down again. I thought long and hard about how this could be, they weren't supposed to exist beyond one o'clock, when I quickly found myself face-to-face with the small wolf with feathers. I tried to back up, only to find the rock I had been using was blocking the way. I stared into its bright luminous yellow eyes, and closed mine as I pondered the many ways this beast could rip me to tiny shreds, when yet another werewolf arrive on the scene. 

The two that had been staring at me twirled around, forgetting I existed, which was an absolutely horrid thing to do, and started snarling at him, and backed him into a corner. He snarled back, though not as confidently, and as I got up, all of them turned around and started snarling at me! What had I done to deserve this? I stared backing away, when that confounded rock stopped me again! I was truly trapped. 

I looked from side to side. More and more werewolves were gradually appearing by the minute, and the more that showed up, the more the others growled. No wonder the village killed a werewolf every month! The country was positively littered with the beasts! I stood there, frozen on the spot. It had obviously been done by some unknown werewolf charm, as I was used to fighting werewolves too much to be afraid (_see_ Gadding with Ghouls for that note). 

The nearest wolf to me pounced, and I had to duck to get out of its way. It consequently smashed into the rock behind me. The other wolves snarled at me, and began to move in closer. I had nothing else to do. I had to use my secret weapon! (The same secret weapon you can now see on display in the International Museum of Magical History in my own personal section.)

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," I told myself, and took out my wand once more. The wolves stopped dead and stared uneasily at my wand. 

"They're afraid of magic," I said. I waved my wand about and they all scattered. A few returned, then the rest. They moved in again, and I waved my wand, and they scattered once again, save a few who stayed. This continued for a few more minutes, until I waved my wand and not one wolf left. I was quite proud of relieving the wolves of their fear, when I remembered that their fear might have saved my life (I was still quite exhausted from my large _Homorphous_ spell) and could have kicked myself. But I didn't, because that might've hurt one of my precious body parts, and nobody would've wanted that, now would they?

Well, now that they weren't afraid of my waving of the wand, I had to perform a real spell. But which one? I had already used the _Homorphous_, and it would seem pathetic to use the same spell twice! 

So, rather than embarrass myself in front of this mob of man-eating creatures, I decided to use one of the less known spells on these wolves. As I had already taken out my wand, I didn't bother to get it out again, because that would just be repeating myself, now wouldn't it, now wouldn't it, now wouldn't it?

"_Effundo Suchecitrus_!" I cried. Abruptly all the werewolves ceased their prowling and began to rub their eyes vigorously in the dirt, which then clung to them because some sticky mixture was on their fur. I must admit, the spell worked better than even I could imagine. Usually, it works one at a time, but my sheer power must have augmented (For those of you who don't know, augmented means "go up". It's in my list of special words along with "mission" and, hype-, er, hypo-, _hypothermia_!) its distance! But even that accursed, er, curse couldn't hold them. In mere moments, they were back to their normal snarling, shaggy selves. I knew this mixture of "I cast a spell, they get set back, then return to normal" wouldn't last forever. If I was to live, it would take a spell of enormous proportions (look for those two definitions at the end of the book)!

I thought of the _Supressius_ curse, which would help me outlive them, but the thought was shattered when I remembered that this only worked at full strength, and as I had used up a great deal of my power from the _Homorphous_ spell and _Effundere Suchecitrum_ curse. I decided to use the most devastating hex I had in my arsenal! The _Pluvia Calamare_ curse. I straightened myself, took my fighting pose again, and made sure my wand was at the ready. It would take everything I had to make sure this spell went right; the fate of a village, a country, and of course myself rested in it. Even the wolves seemed to stop their stalking for a moment. I took deep breaths, closed my eyes and shouted: 

"_Pluvius Calamare_!"

And then...

Nothing. I opened my eyes and saw that my spell wasn't working. I must have lost too much energy, and I couldn't use the curse properly. Was this to be the end of Gilderoy Lockhart, the great, fearless master of monsters? Time seemed to be standing still. Not one wolf moved, blinked or drooled. I myself was stiff as a board, so as not to break stalemate moment. A bird flew over-head, and chirped, rather loudly, I must say, and the spell that had surrounded us was broken. The wolves were snapped back into reality. They barred their teeth at me. The small chickened one I pointed out earlier was inching closer, and closer. It was a foot away. It pounced. It was stopped by a giant squid falling from the sky. Yes, my friends, acquaintances, and absolute strangers, a giant squid. I couldn't have been more happy. I would have leaped for joy, had I the strength. More of these blessed sea-dwellers came crashing down on the wolves. As more and more squids fell from the sky, something strange was happening to the werewolves. They were... transforming! Yes, I must have frightened them into turning themselves back into humans!

I took up my most honorable pose, incase anyone wanted pictures, flashed a gleaming smile and helped the nearest wolf-man to me, the one with the chipped fang-tooth, up. Then I noticed who it was. I looked around. They were all there. The weeping house-wife, the flood-boy (I couldn't quite remember his name, but he was there during the flood), even the old woman-chicken, who was still a chicken, if you were wondering. The villagers from the village I was sworn to protect were the werewolves I was sworn to fight! (Life's ironic, isn't it?) I once again stared into the face of the man next to me. He was the chief. He was also the werewolf with the chipped fang. I looked around again. There were others, not from my village. The chief smiled at me.

"It's over," he said joyfully. "It's over!!" he shouted. He got up and started jumping around. "He'll leave us now!!!!" he cried merrily. I assume he was talking about the wolf spirit in him. Then he stopped, sniffed, and looked around. "Where'd all this squid come from?"

**

**XII: The Parting**

The rest went on like a blur. We helped each other out, but for some reason the villagers steered out of my way. I instead aided the people not from my village, the Kinky tribes. These were from the village of Wagga-Wagga, you remember that don't you? Oh, wait, no, you wouldn't, would you? I arrived at the village of Wagga-Wagga before this whole thing started. I'd taken the wrong bus, you see, and found myself in Wagga-Wagga when I was supposed to be going to Kinky. That was why I was standing out on a hill instead of driving on it... A-heh, heh, heh...

That out of the way, I was helping the Wagga-Waggers to their feet. It was a very tideous thing to do, it was oh so ti- oh, bother, it's been done. When I reached the last of the fallen villagers, I walked over to the chief of Kinky. 

"Why didn't you tell me you were werewolves!" I shouted, as I was completely miffed by this lack of important detailing. He shrugged it off. 

"You never asked."

I was dumfounded. "You have a lot of explaining to do," I said.

The next morning I was still in Kinky, though I was scheduled to go that night. It was when the flood-boy came to my hut that I learned that there was to be a banquet that night celebrating my leaving. I was touched. Really, I was. They were holding a banquet in my honour! Well, not in so many words, but that's basically what it was... And so, the rest of that day was spent packing my many things and dressing up. For the banquet. That was to be held in MY honour. I was so happy, I was elastic, er, ecstatic. 

That night as I entered the, er, large hut, full of the Kinky villagers, I saw something in the eyes of the those people I'd never seen before. They were happy, genuinly happy. I had no idea that they would be so happy that they'd been transformed back into humans! As soon as the first villagers saw me, a hush crept into the room. They stared at me with eyes full of fear. Fear that they would be lost without me, obviously! They brought out a huge cake with four candles on it.

"I'm a supposed to make a wish?" I asked the men and women around me.

"Yes! Make a wish!" they replied.

I closed my eyes and thought hard. What to wish for? I didn't say it out loud at the time, for that would have jinxed it, but I'll tell you my wish now. I'd wished for peace between all magic and non-magical people of the world. When that was done, a man from one of the tables shouted:

"A toast!" This was met by many murmurs of agreement, so I stood up. 

"May all you villagers be safe without me by your side." 

The chief stood up as I sat down, lifting his wine glass as he toasted "To Gilderoy Lockhart! Saviour of us all!" The whole village yelled "Here, here!" They all clapped and took me up on their shoulders, chanting "Gil-de-roy! Gil-de-roy! Gil-de-roy!"

And then I woke up. I'd dozed off in the bus. Well, while there _had_ been a ceremony in my honour, it was not quite as big as my dream one. It was quite small, really, with a few of the villagers asking me to correct a few of their problems. It seemed the sugar bowl-slash-cat had been spitting sugar whenever a family friend came through the door. They had ignored my protest on how useful this kind of bowl could be and forced me to change it back. When that was done, the family of the chicken-woman had taken the stand and demanded their grand-mama be returned to her normal self. After the farewells, the chief had taken me outside to talk. And this is what you may have been confused by.

The village of Kinky did slay a werewolf every year, but it was a wolf from the village of Wagga-Wagga, their neighbouring rivals. The third wolf on scene after the _Hormorphous_ was one of them. In villages this small, it seemed all the children had been bitten by accident by someone older than they, or had wolf blood in them to begin with, thus the werewolf villages.

All that out of the way, I said my last farewell to the Kinky chief and went on my way. And here I am, writing on the bus at this very instant, happy to be alive and to have improved the lives of the people of two villages, and to have kept my perfect coif intact. All in a month's work, I suppose. 

(some squiggly writing which appears to be written in lilac ink) ~Gilderoy Lockhart

**

Critics Reviews:

"A _fantastic_, _wonderful_, _full of life adventure story_. It's what dreams are made of!"  
Lack Hert, the Daily GL

"It iz zo greet! I cannot believe it! It iz zo entrazing! Bezt I've read 'iet! I'm going to get my picture wiz 'im right now!"  
Gil de Roy, French intern, La Sorcière de la Semaine (Witch Weekly)

"I can't believe they let him publish this [...] it's a load of [...] not a single bit of hard info [...] can't believe it made it to the best sellers list [...] [...] [...] [...] who is this guy [...] (so on, so forth)"  
John Hairfield, International Association of Werewolves

"There were only a few things wrong with it. Shall I take you through lists 1 to 178?"  
Rita Skeeter, Witch Weekly

"I can't believe he created such a great novel! My hero, Gil, as I call him, he's always prepared for everything that comes his way! Not a thing wrong with the book! It was great! Check and see when you can get your photo taken with the "master" when Gilderoy goes on tour! Copies of my, I mean HIS next book to the first one there!"   
Gill L. Heart, Lockhart Book Inc.

"What? What book? Who the (_*censored*_) is Gilderoy Lockhart? Wait, I think I remembe- _I remember nothing..._"  
Inzinc Bladder, chief of Kinky village

"Who does Gilderoy think he is, making such a magnificent, entrancing, "hartfelt" book? I loved it so much, I think I'll go to that tour Gilderoy is going on! I'd like to see you there, too!"  
Lok Hurt, A Random Man 

"It was me! I told him his hair was so great! It was me, I tell you, MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
Jill Lakhert, Gil's #1 fan 

"I loved it ! I loved it, it was so great, isn't Gilderoy just so...so...WONDERFUL!!?!!!?!!?!!"  
Gilderina Lechirt, A Random Girl

"How can you put something like this into words...is was a terrific book! And that's putting it lightly! Gilderoy is an amazing author, and I'm surprised he doesn't get more fanmail! If you want to write Gilderoy, the area code is G1L D3 R0Y L0K H4RT, his e-mail is monster_master_who_is_so_great_love_me_I_am_Lockhart_the_Great_love_me_here_have_my_autograph_free@Lockhartbooks.com, or mail any of his fan papers! They'd love to hear from you!"  
Luke Hart, The Daily Hair, Lochart's Official Fan Paper

**

_**Gilderoy's Glossery**_

**Armenia:** A small country in Asia.  
**Asia:** The largest of the six continents.  
**Continent:** The chunks of land that divide the Earth.  
**Courage:** What Gilderoy is full of.   
**Danger: ** What Gilderoy laughs in the face of.   
**Effunde Sucucitrum: **A spell. Literal translation means "squirt lemon juice".  
**Enormous: ** Very very big.  
**Firmementum: ** A spell that makes whatever the spell is performed upon stay on the ground.  
**Hormorphous:** A spell cast only by the most powerful wizards that changes thing into or back into humans.  
**Hypothermia:** Something that you get when you stay out in the cold for too long and turns you a most pleasant shade of blue. (For further colour alignment see the August issue of the Weekly Hair to see what I was wearing at the opening gala for my newest book, a self-made autobiography entitled Me, Myself & I and more Me)  
**Mission:** Something you are assigned and sworn to do. Only the noblest of people can complete (finish) their missions.  
**Pluvio Calamare:** A spell which makes squid fall from the sky.  
**Proportion:** A certain quantity.  
**Summamabitch:** A title bestowed upon the greatest heroes of Armenia. ...Possibly.  
**Quantity:** Um...er... Collin's (Dictionary) says: "Anything that can be measured, weighed or counted."   
**Werewolf:** Witch Weekly's Third Most Ugliest Creature, next to Hags and Goblins. Also some sort of awfully terrible destructive beast that would rip off the head of a lesser, more unworthy man than I.

And Gilderoy's moral of the story is: Always buy water proof watches.  
And the vortex's moral of the story is: There's a lot of thought behind being stupid.

A/n: Originally posted: 5-28-01, in the Harry Potter Author fics section. It was misplaced to begin with, so I just moved it around. Also originally posted in actual chapters, but I decided against it in this one. Hope you enjoyed this messed up piece of prose.

-the vortex

Because you just can't get enough Lockhart! 


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